Midterms and Knit Sweaters
by etanunu
Summary: Modern AU: First he invaded her corner of the library, then her favorite coffee shop, until finally he invaded her apartment. In which, Clarke is a grumpy decaffeinated pre-med student with no patience for attractive hipsters. Bellarke


**Midterms and Knit Sweaters**

 _Modern AU: First he invaded her corner of the library, then her favorite coffee shop, until finally he invaded her apartment. In which, Clarke is a grumpy decaffeinated pre-med student with no patience for attractive hipsters._

 _ **FALL - MIDTERMS**_

The first time she sees him in _her_ corner of the library, because really it had been hers for the last two years, Clarke can't help but stare at the pile of books he's hauling with little difficulty.

They are nothing like the large medical textbooks she has on the table in front of her. At most, he has two textbooks—the other 6 or so books he's carrying look like novels. She's mostly shocked he hasn't spilled a single book from its tower—or the to-go coffee cup at the very top.

The guy doesn't even give her a glance, just sets his tower down on _her_ table. Before he sets the coffee cup down in front of him he takes a few long gulps. Clarke decides to ignore him, after all it's fine since he's a good few feet to her right—even if it is across from her. But then he uses the toe of his oxfords to pull the seat he should have taken toward him—loudly—and drops down on the chair. He's a lot closer than she expected.

Clarke is outright staring at him, but he's still not looking at her. He pushes his chair back noisily and relaxes into it, now only a few inches to the right of her study material.

She sighs, shakes her head, and looks back down at her highlighted notes. Decisively, she tries to not let her nerves for tomorrow dictate her anger.

Still, he doesn't stop there. Of course not. She only has her first midterm tomorrow with a known asshole of a professor that's worth 30% of her grade. Of course this dumb hipster with his oxfords, and expensive hand-knit sweater, and—oh god are those books ALL on mythology. Of course, this idiot has to loudly shuffle and drop his stupid books into different, methodical piles that seem to have some sort of organization to them only he could understand.

Another book _thunks_ when he moves the bottom book of the middle pile to the top.

"Do you mind?" Clarke finally speaks up with the fakest smile she can force.

The guy has dark, slightly messy wavy hair and freckles. He smirks at her and Clarke knows he's probably one of those guys who spend far too much time on how they look in the morning. He's shooting for somewhere between boy next door and badboy with a heart of gold. He mumbles an insincere sorry, before turning away from her.

She gets ten minutes of studying before he starts scratching the sleeve on his coffee cup with one fingernail as he flips through the pages of probably _Oedipus Rex_ or something.

Honestly, it doesn't matter what he's reading, what matters is _how_ he's reading. She gives him a pointed look and he rolls his eyes. He downs the rest of his drink and shoots it into the nearest trashcan. Luckily, he doesn't cheer like some dumb frat boy but he does look very proud of himself.

Thirty minutes of studying pass by when he starts spinning a pen in his fingers, only pausing to click it repeatedly before writing something down.

He's finished going through the pages of four of the books he brought with him, which she assumes he's read before, and she's only made it through the first page of her notes.

Ten minutes later, he slips up when he's spinning his stupid pen and drops it loudly on the table.

"Can't you sit somewhere else?" she hisses out, not bothering to look up at him. She presses the tip of her highlighter against the second page of her notes and makes an aggressive mark.

"Will you chill out, Princess?" he scoffs. "This table isn't your kingdom. You can't just _banish_ me because you can't focus."

She still doesn't look at him and marks another thing, not entirely sure what she's just highlighted. It's childish, but the fact that he called her out on being unfocused at the moment pisses her off.

"No one's banishing you," she says. "But you _are_ rude and loud. There are other tables you can sit at without annoying someone who really needs to study." And there are. This is one of three tables in the back left corner of the fourth floor, where no one ever goes because it's past rows of encyclopedias no one ever uses.

Only one other table is occupied; it's taken over by an Asian guy she always sees coding for fun and some guy she's had a few chemistry classes with before (his name might be Jasper). They're only loud when they take breaks, every hour or so, and she appreciates that because it forces her to stop too. Sure they may even be louder than this freckled jerk, but at least they let her have a whole hour of quiet before going off for ten or fifteen minutes. She's sure they wouldn't mind his company and then there would still be a whole other table between them.

A tan index finger appears in her line of sight as he taps the wood repeatedly until she looks up at him with a scowl. He's glaring back at her when he says; "It's a battlefield of energy drinks and snack wrappers over there." He points at her personal alarm clocks. "And I didn't want to take up an empty table a group of students studying together might need."

He's still a jerk, she tells herself.

When she doesn't say anything, he smirks again. "I'm not moving." He leans back into his seat and reopens a book she thought he'd already finished. "Feel free to leave if you want, though." He drops the book back and goes back to spinning and clicking his pen before writing something down, smirk still in place.

She doesn't move until Jasper and his friend start their break five minutes later. It's only to get up for a bathroom break and some water. When she gets back Clarke sees he's still there but decides she won't be the one to back down first.

They continue with this game of chicken for the table past midterms. Clarke starts talking to Jasper and Monty (the coder) during their breaks at some point just to get away from him for a moment. He never joins in, but it's only because he decides to take his breaks a few minutes after hers is done to annoy her by stretching, making calls, or eating Sun Chips—the noisiest of all snacks.

 **FALL - FINALS**

Even if it meant non-stop exams for the last three days, there are three things Clarke is grateful for after finishing her last final on Wednesday.

The first is no more library trips. Which means she doesn't have to deal with that ridiculous classics major that keeps showing up to her table, even when he doesn't have to study. And no more frantic Monty and Jasper.

It turned out Monty was studying agricultural engineering and Jasper was studying chemical engineering, but both had minors like her. Monty's was computer science, and Jasper's was physics. Which meant when she wasn't going insane from pen clicking, she was jumping every time either of the two friends would have a mini meltdown or started cheering because they finally understood something.

Even though they were both very smart, they mostly hung out at the library developing a game Monty had been working on set in a post-apocalyptic world and playing MMORPGs. "The Wi-Fi works best here," Jasper told her with a shrug. This meant she'd never actually been around them while they studied.

When the freckled hipster smirked every time she sighed but didn't say anything to the two unless it was words of comfort, Clarke had to pretend to not notice.

The only sign of stress on his part was not styled hair, rolled up sleeves, and larger cups of coffee. She hates to admit it, but objectively his hair looks even better in messy waves instead of slicked back. Which makes her realize he probably only did his hair and wore such uptight clothing for appearances sake.

The second thing she is grateful for is that finishing so soon means she can focus on helping her new roommate figure out the paperwork to move in next quarter. Clarke and Raven had been living together all of their second year with a third mysterious roommate they never saw after getting the apartment. Two weeks ago the mystery roommate posted notes on their doors telling them she was actually graduating that quarter instead of winter and they'd need a new roommate stat. She had the decency to write, "Sorry for the late heads up," but Clarke and Raven both knew she didn't mean it.

The girl they found was a second year named Octavia. They didn't expect such quick responses when the two went around posting flyers in every bathroom on campus, men's included thanks to Raven's 'fuck it' attitude and some choice bribing to Monty and Jasper. Apparently, Octavia had been living with her brother but she was tired of all his hovering. They'd just gotten in a fight about her boyfriend when she saw their flyer and thought it was as good as any sign to finally get a place away from her brother.

"Well, not too far," she admitted during their first meeting. "He's only a few blocks away at a different apartment complex. I need my space, but he'd think I hate him if I went _too_ far." Octavia smirked in a way that told Clarke that even if she had an over-protective brother she wasn't easy to tame. "Seeing his face when I told him I was moving out was punishment enough."

Clarke still thinks that her brother sounded a bit overbearing. But she didn't have any siblings so she figured she couldn't judge.

And finally, the third and final thing Clarke is grateful for is coffee at Grounders. Specifically, drinking coffee for pleasure rather than survival. These last few days she was drinking cups of it like she needed an IV of caffeine to get through the day.

It's Thursday, which means Raven is still studying for her last final tomorrow. A final she shares with Jasper.

While in line, Clarke sends Monty a text asking if he and Jasper wanted anything. She already planned on getting Raven something and the school and its library were on her way back home. Plus, the last time she saw them they were shaking from only drinking energy drinks and eating high-sodium snacks and candy.

As she expected, they only wanted coffee with far too many shots of espresso. Clarke orders their drinks with two shots less than they each asked for, plus two sandwiches. Then she asks for an iced latte for Raven and a cappuccino for herself. She figures she can just make some pasta with what was leftover from the rotisserie chicken they got two days ago. It smelled fine this morning.

The man at the cashier was in some of her art classes, so she makes a comment about their final and smiles at him before paying. He rings her up and chuckles when she says something along the lines of "now we wait for grades."

As she moves over to wait for her drinks and the sandwiches, she sends Monty a text letting him know she got their order and some sandwiches.

"Bell!" someone calls out an order.

Clarke barely put her phone in her pocket when she notices him. The freckled hipster.

He smirks as he passes her for his drink. Instead of walking away he takes a tentative sip of his drink and stands in front of her. "Funny running into you here, Princess," he says, as usual sticking to that stupid nickname he gave her the first time they met.

She quirks an eyebrow at him and gives his cup a pointed look, or rather the messily written "Bell" on the outside. Confused, he turns his wrist to find what she was staring at. "So you're one of _those_ guys who gives weird names at coffee shops," Clarke comments with her arms crossed.

"That is my name," he says flatly, his eyebrows making a perfectly straight line.

Her practiced scowl drops at that. Wow, she feels like an asshole. Clarke doesn't know his name, so why the hell would she just assume that?

"Well, sort of," he amends as an afterthought. "It's a nickname. Force of habit I guess. I got tired of Starbucks always writing 'Emily' instead of 'Bellamy.'" He rolls his eyes and leans against the counter casually, as if he was talking to a friend instead of a girl he'd been bothering for nearly two months who had only just learned his name.

She would be amazed by how easily he shifts from loud, sarcastic, jerk to a normal human being if she wasn't busy noticing he's wearing his staple oxfords and a _new_ knit sweater. His shoes look like he'd gotten them shined recently. The outfit looks like a uniform for the pretentious. It reminds her of her mother and stuffy parties from childhood.

"I know most of the people who work here, but like I said…" he takes another sip, "...force of habit."

Clarke admits this is the longest either of them has talked with each other. Most of the time they spend together is spent passive-aggressively trying to make the other leave the table they "share" at the library or studying.

"Clarke!" a girl with two French braids calls out her order.

She asks for a carrying tray and tucks the sandwiches into her purse. While she arranges the drinks and gets the right amount of straws and sleeves, Bellamy picks up another easy conversation with the girl who called out her order.

 _Guess he does know the people who work here_ , she thinks. Seeing him talk like this and these last few moments she was forced into his company make him seem normal for a change. It's a pleasant change, albeit weird.

Vaguely, she hears him tell the girl, Monroe, goodbye. "I'll see you tomorrow for the final," he calls out as he follows Clarke over to the napkins and sugar.

"You have a class together?" she asks conversationally.

"Sure," he says with a chuckle.

She's grabbing a few forks, though she's not sure why, when he asks, "I thought you were done with finals?"

"I am. Two of these are for Jasper and Monty." Clarke points at theirs, then at Raven's latte. "That's for my roommate." Instead of pointing at her cappuccino, she pulls it out of the tray and takes a drink. She nearly burns her tongue. "And mine."

He's silent for a bit and she thinks he's done talking to her. Then the freckled hipster—Bellamy, she corrects herself—taps her cup. "So is that your first name, last name, or were you actually being a hypocrite earlier when you thought you were calling me out for a harmless joke a lot of people, like Jasper and Monty probably, enjoy?"

She's practiced ignoring him so much that brushing past his victorious smirk is easy. "Clarke Griffin."

"Princess suits you better."

 **AN:/**

Next chapter is almost done! But I'd appreciate the feedback. This is my first The 100 fic, and I'm pretty excited about it. I expect it will only run 4 or 5 chapters.


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